


Apologies in Advance

by MajorEnglishEsquire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Communication, Lies, M/M, Season/Series 11, Secrets, Sigils, Team Free Will, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:59:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorEnglishEsquire/pseuds/MajorEnglishEsquire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam considers that lies and secrets go both ways.<br/>And he's the baby brother so he's allowed to rat everyone out.</p><p>Super-late posting of a 11.06 coda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologies in Advance

**Author's Note:**

> 11.06 coda that likely doesn't fit into 11.07 at all. Oops.
> 
> I do not own the rights to these characters, the show, etc. No harm is intended.

He knows they set up rules and he knows he wants to be answerable to this new way of living.

Sam doesn't want to lie anymore. He doesn't want to feel that sick churn of sadness and shame and hold his face still and try to look trustworthy.

What he wants is to _be_ trustworthy.

And after a few more hours eating and reading and sitting across from Dean theorizing about The Darkness, he chickens out, anyway.

He heads back to his room and Cas is there blinking at the opening credits of a documentary. He sits up and moves off the bed to the chair. "I can go if you need to get some sleep," he offers.

Sam shakes his head with his lips sealed tight and he listens to the spacey intro music and... his voice is high and tight when he says, "Actually. I need to talk to you."

He turns to shut the door. Cas uses the remote to pause his show.

"I wanna tell the truth about something," he swallows. "But I'm so freaked out about it, I'm not ready to go to Dean with it yet."

Concern rises on Cas's face and he sits straighter in the chair. "Why don't you tell me and I'll help you tell him," he offers.

Sam clears his throat. "Um. Yeah?"

Castiel shrugs.

He sets down his stack of books, goes to the bed and sits near Cas. Wipes his palms on his knees.

"I did tell. Mm. I did tell Dean some of it? I told Dean that I've been. Um. Feeling things. Seeing them, that I think. I think something- or someone? Out there is trying to send me some kind of warning messages about The Darkness. But. I mean, what isn't, you know? It's like the endtimes all over again. Everybody's arming up. The monsters, lately, and the soulless ones. All of it is starting to get intense all at once. I can only picture things getting worse. But. Um. It's _so_ intense that. That I." He shrugs. "I prayed," he spits out like a confession. "I prayed and, after, I saw something. And it's becoming clearer. More intense. Aaaand. I don't think this message is coming from. Up." He points to the ceiling.

Cas sits back. "That would imply it's coming from." He points. "Down?"

Sam bites his lip and wipes his palms off again. "I've never seen it from the outside. What does. Um. What does The Cage look like?"

Cas reels for a moment. Then mulls this over. "There are two of them in there. Sam? Which one does it feel like?"

He flexes his jaw. "I'm only really familiar with the _one_."

Cas nods, grave.

"You can see why I'm not ready to break it to Dean yet."

"Yeah," he agrees. "I can. Um." He lifts a hand. Two fingers. "May I?"

Sam doesn't want to. But he can't lie anymore. And, at this point, that includes hiding anything from Cas. Cas knows their combined history is a little conflicted. He knows there were times that they, rightfully, couldn't trust one another. He just hopes that those thoughts all stay in the back, where Cas doesn't have to run across them again. None of it is true anymore. The only thing between them is this-- the house, the bunker, the team they've become. Their Family.

He doesn't want to see it again and he doesn't want Cas to have to see the other sludge in his brain. But he nods anyway.

It's only a touch and a moment. Cas sits back and nods. Twice. "Yes."

Sam rubs a hand across his mouth. "I guess. At least I know for sure, now." His throat tightens up on him. "How do I tell Dean?"

Cas's smile is grim, eyes almost watery. "I don't think I'm a real expert on communication with him at the moment, but we can. Um. Practice. Before we do. We can tell him together. We can make sure he doesn't panic. Or get too angry."

Okay. Well, then. "So, your turn. You wanna tell me why it is Dean wouldn't let you patch him up?"

Cas shakes his head once and looks away. Picks up the remote and turns the tv off. "There's this very intricate and technical implication to having certain conversations with. Um. Between us. Between our-"

"Family," Sam says for him.

Cas nods. "If I tell you, that means it's something we openly discuss. As a-" he puts up a hand in deference "-as a family." His hand clunks back down. "If, however, Dean and I continue to keep that between ourselves, I think social standards dictate that what happened between him and myself is a. A _relationship issue?_ " he says, like he's not sure he's getting it right.

Sam cocks his head, sussing this out. "So, you're saying that you're not sure if it's a private matter or a family matter. Meaning. Meaning that. _You two_. You guys have got _private matters_ now?"

"Well," Cas shrugs. "I um. I thought. Maybe they might someday be." He waves it off suddenly. "I don't know. I should tell you if you want to know. Dean would tell you."

"Dean hasn't," he corrects. "I've asked. A few times. Dean won't tell. He won't tell me your _private matters_. Which is maybe a _thing_ in and of itself that I should be clued in on?" he challenges.

Cas doesn't speak. He looks around. He probably sees through the walls and earth and tastes the dust and history and sees through to the next dimension where ancient shades casually slide through the walls and away again. "I like it here. And. I um." He has to clear his throat. "I like Dean. And I'm worried that." He shrugs. "We go on this way and we will forever. Hurting each other too much one week to like each other the next." He straightens up. Takes a breath. "And _that_. That's what _I can't say_ to Dean."

Sam smiles. "So we practice. Then we tell him."

Cas looks like he thinks Sam is joking.

"Dude. I'm not gonna be the one to shove this down Dean's throat, but I have to fucking admit I wondered if this is what was happening," he motions vaguely toward Dean and Cas and the whole rooms between them that could fill to the brim with their gestures and feelings and moments and, from what Sam saw standing next to Rowena, their _touches_. "I've been here, I've seen it. You know what would have happened by now if it was going to happen at all? I would have heard the _complaining_ , Cas. _Endless_ complaining. If he wanted to get away from you and he couldn't I would never have heard the end of it. He'd be bitching about it every time you left the room. I'd have to hear rants each way in the car. Every time we hung up he would have talked shit about you until it got to the point where I kicked you out for my own sanity." He grins. Shakes his head. "It ain't happening. And you know it would."

Cas is dubious. "You're saying that, because he doesn't explicitly hate me and express direct dislike, it could be implied he feels similarly."

"You know what I've heard all week? 'Stop telling me to call Cas, he needs to rest. Cas needs to recover. Do you know what show Cas started this week? I don't know if Cas looks as comfortable in the short coat as he used to in the long one. Don't interrupt Cas, he's on season three. Don't spoil the show for Cas. Tell Cas where we keep the coffee filters. I'm gonna call and see if Cas has any leads for us.'"

Castiel cringes slightly. "You don't do a very good impression of your brother."

"Yeah, I don't make _moon eyes_ at you and touch your shoulder and text you every hour. My impression of Dean is really lacking," he laughs.

Cas narrows his eyes. "Regardless, by far the more pressing concern is that you're getting a warning from one of the most powerful creatures on the planet. We do need to tell Dean that this could mean Lucifer is attempting to open up a line of communication with you."

There goes Cas, trying to spoil the mood with that damn name. Sam sighs. "He's gonna ask if there's some way you can hide me. Some way you can cut the phone line before I hear anymore."

"I'm not entirely certain you _shouldn't_ hear more. Lucifer may know better than we do who it is we're dealing with in Amara."

"Yep." Sam slaps the mattress and rises. "I was also afraid you'd say that. And that's not the right answer if you wanna get into Dean's pants."

" _Sam_."

"'Hey, Dean. What's up? Oh, me? Nothing much. I'm just waiting for Lucifer to stop playing phone tag with me and also Cas wants your bod.'"

"I do not want his _bod_ ," Cas glares. "Not. Not _just_ his." He shrugs. "Bod."

"Jesus." Sam circles the room to shuffle some stuff away. "So we have to assume he's trying to get in contact with me because, A: he wants to warn me and tell me how to stop it or, B: I just prayed out in the wrong direction and accidentally dialed in the Hell Hotline and now he's gonna send me torture texts until I answer." What a joy.

"I wouldn't say you can pray in the wrong direction, but it may have opened a clear path for him, yes."

"If the other angels are still after you, maybe they're _all_ the wrong direction. Maybe God's so fucking absent my message went straight through to Satan's voicemail. Maybe this is a ghost we gotta give up on, Cas."

He knows that's not what Cas wants to hear and he disregards it, shakes his head and moves on. "He may have information. But it could be intentionally misleading. God closed the cage, initially, so we have to consider the possibility that His sister is powerful enough to open it. We can't risk that Lucifer would direct you to encourage Amara's rise to power. And Dean's first reaction, ungenerous as it may be, would be to assume you could be tricked into something like that."

It stings but it's the truth. "Alright. So is there some way to. I donno. Reverse my prayer? Cut the line? Make it stop?"

"There's a ward we can draw on your skin until you're able to get a tattoo of it. Or until this ordeal has ended. Technically the prayer is currently being answered so the... work order? Is presently in the process of being executed. Nothing we can do about that," Cas shrugs.

And that's an interesting way of putting it. Sam frowns, shuffles around his papers for a Sharpie and tosses it to Cas. He catches it and gets up to push Sam's sleeve up his arm. Draws a sigil on his forearm.

He doesn't feel anything once it's in place. Doesn't expect to, but it will be nice not to have to look forward to anymore pins, hooks, chains, ripping, searing, and flaying.

"I think we can tell Dean, now," Cas adds.

Sam takes a deep breath. "First of all, show him the sigil, second, you explain what it does. Then I tell him why I need it. Then I tell him I'm worried it's." Sam grimaces. " _Him_."

"And if it comes to it, I'll remind Dean that we're taking care of this as a family. That we roll with the punches. Normally that's his line, but he might need to hear it from the outside," Cas nods.

Sam rattles him by the shoulder. "Thanks, man. Um. Do you really want help telling him-"

"No." Cas taps the marker in his hand for a moment, blank-faced. Then tosses it back at the desk. "I don't want to tell him."

"What, like. Ever?"

"Not now. With all this pressure."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "You envision a future where there's not _pressure_ coming from someplace?"

Cas shakes his head. "He's not ready. I'm not ready."

Sam doesn't have a chance to ask what "ready" even is because Cas goes to the door and starts down the hall.

It goes about how they expect, with Dean ending up exasperated and going to bed still simmering. At least they have some preventative measure in place, but Dean's gonna try to figure out how to reverse a prayer.

Yeah. Good luck with that.

Cas tries to tell him there's not much point, but he doesn't want to hear it. Snaps a book off the shelf, takes his whiskey with, and leaves the library.

Sam chews on his bottom lip for a minute. Cas drops into the chair Dean vacated and sighs.

Yeah. Sam's gonna avoid thinking about this more. Instead he picks up the last thread of their conversation. "What does 'ready' mean? Under these circumstances."

Cas tosses a hand and rolls his eyes. His most practiced human gestures are the ones that say _This fucking Winchester. Fucking unbelievable._

"Seriously. When do you think 'ready' happens? If he chooses to, he can consciously decide never to be ready; you know that. He's happy to put things off forever if they're not life-and-death."

"That's exactly what it is," Cas shrugs. Defeated and not really seeming to mind it. "It's not life-or-death. It's not of import."

Sam smiles, shakes his head. "You don't get it. There's nothing more _life_ than loving someone. There's no faster way to fucking feel alive. Cas, I'm not calling you a child, I'm saying you haven't given it a chance so you don't know. Dean lights up when he thinks of you being here. He doesn't think he's ever gonna have someone to come home to so the idea of you just _choosing to be here sometimes_ makes him happy. And. I just. Cas, I kinda have to campaign for my brother to feel _happy_ every once in a while. Do you get that? And you- you're my friend, I don't want you to have to wait for this. I don't want him to have to. There's never gonna be a 'good' time for it. There's just gonna be all the minutes of Dean's _very mortal_ life when he didn't have you, versus the rest of his life when he could," Sam parses it out in the air with his hands.

Cas.  
Cas doesn't budge.

Calm and still. He says: "Sam. I thank you for your friendship. I thank you for your concern. But I'm not ready. I'm not ready for Dean to turn away from me to protect himself."

Because it's not the possibility of happiness Dean ever looks forward to -- it's what's on _the other side_ of it that he feels like he has to prepare himself for.

«»

First thing, in the kitchen, after his morning run and his shower and when he's doctoring his coffee up, Dean comes in yawning, marker in hand.

He grabs Sam's arm and Sam can only roll his eyes to the ceiling and hold still while Dean retraces the sigil Cas drew on him last night.

Dean smacks his arm when he's done and shoulders him out of the way of the coffee pot.

Sam considers that lies and secrets go both ways.

And he's the baby brother so he's allowed to rat everyone out.

He also purposely waits until Dean's got coffee in his mouth to say, "Cas and I had sex last night."

Coffee. All over the wall.

"I'm sorry that was a lie but you gotta admit it was fucking hilarious," Sam grins.

"WAS IT? WAS IT, ASSHOLE? Jesus, I think some came out my nose. It fucking _burns_ ," he puts down his mug and goes to the sink to wipe off his mouth.

"Now that I have your attention, however, Cas isn't telling you he's in love with you because he's afraid of what happens when you decide it's too complicated."

Dean leans on the sink and looks back over his shoulder with his face dripping water.

"He won't tell you until you're ready. But I'm not lying to anyone anymore. So I had to tell you."

"That Cas wouldn't even approach me without assuming I'd preemptively break up with him? What fucking business is it of yours, anyway?" he spits and turns to get a towel.

"Dude's taken over my room. Kinda tired of it. Don't wanna give up my tv," he frowns, "so I expect you to drag him off and entertain him."

Dean leans against the counter and picks up his coffee. Rubs the back of his neck. "Well. Good job. Now I have to think about how I crushed a good guy's hopes before I was even supposed to know about them. You and Lucifer let me know if you've got any other 'hilarious' revelations planned."

And he just.  
Leaves.

"Wait wait wait," Sam darts to follow him out and push him back away from the dorm hall. He drops his voice. "I told you that so you would _do_ something about it, Dean."

"Well, it's not a secret anymore so you've done your duty, right? You told your stupid truth," Dean tries to get past him again and.

Nope. "Wait," he pulls Dean back in front of him again. "You're no-"

"NO. No, Sam. I'm not going to do anything about it. I don't want to. I wanna pretend like you didn't say anything and just keep my friend if it's not too much trouble for you not to shit on that, too," he hisses.

He yanks his arm away and moves around Sam and.

Sam lets him go.

These two fuckers are completely baffling.

He slams his door closed when he gets to his room. Cas is already cruising the menu on the television.

"Go fucking tell him," he demands.

Cas just raises an eyebrow at him and leans on his hand.

" _Go fucking tell him_ ," he repeats slower.

"No," Cas says quite simply and with not a single sign that he may waver.

"Why the hell not?? What the hell is wrong with you two?! Are you both just that bent on being unhappy??"

Cas drops the remote to his lap and folds his hands together. "We could be not-unhappy apart or eventually-unhappy together."

"It's not a fucking inevitability!!"

"Sam. While I appreciate your friendship and your concern, this is my existence. And it's not actually any of your business." He nods. Turns off the tv. Sets the remote on the dresser, and leaves.

What the fuck???

He spends a minute more, reeling in his room by himself, before he steps into the hall--

And steps back because Dean's opening his door at Cas's knock.

"I just wanted you to know I'm leaving," Cas says.

This is fucking absurd.

It's an extended moment while Dean probably nods. Gets his words together. "Um. Okay. Well. You don't ha- I mean. Well. Just call if you need us. Alright?"

Solid and sure by the end of it. Just concerned for his friend.

This is ridiculous.

"What the fuck are you two doing?" he steps into the hall.

Cas glares at him.

Dean huffs a breath.

"Fucking talk to each other! Seriously!"

Cas looks back to Dean.

Dean drops his eyes away. "Sorry about that, Cas. We'll see you later. Just call, okay?"

Sam throws his hands up.

Cas turns to him. "Sam. This isn't any of your concern. Drop it."

"There's a fucking heard of elephants in this bunker, you expect me to ignore the-"

"Sam," Dean snaps. "What the actual fuck do you want from us?"

Alright. Fine. "Nothing I guess. Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Cas you don't have to go. I'll be upstairs," he gestures. "The room is yours." He gives up.

Cas leaves anyway.  
He watches Dean go upstairs to see him off.

And then Dean starts drinking at 10:18 in the morning.

«»

Sam gets blamed for Castiel's absence in a way he wasn't expecting. Other than discussing news-of-the-weird, Dean gives him the cold shoulder.

The next day, Dean redraws his sigil without comment. Sam has to snag him before he walks away. "I don't get any of this. But I'm sorry. I guess I'd rather you have Cas under your roof and have you happy that he's near than force you talk about it and make him feel like he has to leave. I just. I really don't get it. But. I'm sorry for forcing the issue."

Dean looks him up and down. "You get that it's not a fucking little joke for you to throw around, now?"

Yeah. Yeah, alright. He deserves that. He nods.

"Cas isn't the one who's not ready. I'm not ready. I told him I can't think about it."

Sam takes a deep breath. "You wanna tell me why not?"

Dean turns to get breakfast. Shakes his head. Finally says, "I don't see the point, alright. You know, we've been coming across all these soulless people. You know the one thing that's become perfectly clear to me?" Dean turns to him.

Sam shrugs.

"I know what soullessness looks like. I can tell I still have my soul. And I can also tell something's missing from me. Probably always has been missing. And I. Just don't have enough in me to give to somebody else. Sammy, you got all I can spare and I can't trust myself to have enough for Cas. Yeah, I. I care, I do care. I also care that I'm gonna use him up again and make him go through human relationship stuff he's not ready for and I'm probably gonna break him at the end of it. I'm not ready for that. I'm not ready for a near-future that has him and a far-future that's emptier than before."

Sam sniffs and winces. "Guess I should be happy you think you even have a far-future."

Dean shrugs.

"I'm sorry," Sam repeats. "Really."

"Yeah, so am I. More than you know."

Sam lets it sit for a minute, but he has to. "So he asked and you said you weren't ready. And you told him that he wasn't, either."

Dean doesn't answer, though.  
He goes back to the books.

«»

He calls Cas a few times. He doesn't pick up so Sam's forced to just leave a message.

"I'm sorry. And I just think... you don't have to forgive me or even talk to me to come back. And at least be here. At least not leave Dean alone, for what it's worth."

Cas finally returns his call in the early hours of the morning.

"I didn't realize the time. I can call back," he automatically offers.

"Nah, it's fine," Sam shakes his head out a little.

"Um. May I ask you a question?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure."

Cas hesitates a moment. "Do you think I could stay there - live there - or would it put pressure on him?"

Sam sighs and has to admit, "You're asking the wrong person. I want you to put pressure on him. Cas, every time he doubts himself, I think it's crap. I don't think he has a hole in him. I don't think he's missing parts. I don't understand why-"

"I don't, either," Cas finally confesses. "I don't either, but I love him enough to respect his limitations."

Sam shakes his head. "Put it this way: If he were missing something you know his soul well enough - you love him enough, that you'd be able to tell."

"I can. Yes, you're right."

"So why-"

"He's lying about something. He doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to speak of it, but his... brain is terrified. Out loud. It's hard for me not to hear it. He starts praying and stops. He starts calling me and hangs up. He feels like he's always doing this to me and he doesn't realize that I don't care. Even if it hurts, I don't care. I'd rather wait for him to be ready to share the truth than pretend I'm alright with leaving him so utterly alone."

"Great. Good. So come home and deliver that speech to him."

"He'll feel like I'm calling him out. Demanding things."

"Goddamnit, Cas, we're not demanding anything. So far we're just constantly picking the lesser of two evils. Stay with him while he grows enough sack to tell you the truth because it's a lesser evil than letting him hide forever."

Cas is silent on the other end. For a while. "You're very used to choosing the lesser of two evils. I know that, Sam. It makes me wonder." He hesitates. "It makes me wonder if Lucifer isn't the lesser evil in comparison to Amara."

"Yeah. Well. I already picked his 'lesser' evil once. The first image he sent me was a sweet little reminder of the torture he put me through. There's a Facebook poke and then there's _that_."

"What if he." Cas goes silent again. "What if he tells us what Dean's holding back? What Dean probably knows and isn't telling us about how connected he and Amara really are?"

Sam shakes his head. "All the more reason to ignore him. For you to come home and put pressure on Dean. I don't need to hear about my brother from the fucking Prince of Lies. I need him to love us enough to wanna tell us."

"Lucifer insisted he never lied."

"Did you ever believe that, Cas? 'Cause he was taking up room in my skull and I still never will."

Sam hears a car start on the other end. "And what if I'm the one who breaks Dean's heart and does exactly what he fears to him without any help?"

Sam blinks into the semi-dark. "I'll believe it when I see it. I'll kick your foofy angelic ass if it really does come to that."

"Oh, Sam," Cas finally lightens up. "I'd like to see you try."

"Apparently I've got an ex-archangel on call who owes you an exploding meatsuit, so I wouldn't push it if I were you, Cas. Never too late in life to try and make friends."

«»

He doesn't use it that much anyway, if he's honest. Dean finds him installing the television in his room.

He just narrows his eyes.

"Cas is on his way back."

He sees Dean's fingers tap his left pocket for his phone. He frowns because he probably didn't get a text.

"You should set that up in the main room."

"Nah. It should go in here."

Dean sighs. "Your matchmaker bullshit is really crossing the line now."

"No it's not."

"Cas can have his own room. There are others."

"Then why are you stacking crap up in those other rooms instead if keeping one clear for him?"

"Sam."

He rises, pushes the remote at his chest. "Deal with it." And leaves the room.

Dean marches out after him. "When did he tell you?"

"Last night. After he called to ask me if he could stay here or if I thought that would put pressure on you."

Dean freezes in his doorway.

Sam shrugs. "No more secrets, no more lies."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I want him to put pressure on you. And besides that, yeah, I also want him to call this place home."

Dean's still mindlessly clutching the remote to his own chest. He gulps. "What if I don't want him here?"

"I suggest you stop lying. Quit cold-turkey with me. This kind of thing is always easier with support."

"Why the hell do you think this is any of your business?"

"Got some bad news for ya," Sam throws his arms wide, "you guys _are my business_."

"I can't fucking believe you," Dean starts running out of steam.

Sam frowns and claps his hands over his brother's shoulders and shakes his head. "That's another lie. You can totally fucking believe me."

«»

The next day, when Sam goes up to breakfast, he almost walks in on a super intense conversation. He halts his momentum against the wall and does an about-face. All he hears is Cas's earnest pleading. "You can tell me." And nothing more. 

«»

Later, he has no choice but to go look for them.

It's a case and it's getting bad already. Five dead and the circumstances freaky enough to pop up on his Google alerts with articles from six surrounding towns.

Sam may have poked a little fun at Cas when they first discussed him and Dean as a _thing_ but he would not actually find it hilarious to walk in on them in some compromising or embarrassing or awkward or honest moment.

He's walked in on Dean at plenty of points in his life. But this wouldn't be like any of that.

He remembers Dean and Lisa's house from when he was soulless, filterless, uncomfortable but unsurprised at the closeness of them and the unseen history of intimacies that had no place in so much as a discussion near the Impala, near the duffels and knives and trappings of The Life.

This is a different incarnation of that.

Just like he'd tried to convince Dean, it would be different with somebody who knew. It would be different with a hunter and it will be different with Cas.

If he lets it be.

They're not close and tangled when he finds them in the kitchen. Cas nurses a coffee at the table and his eyes are glued to Dean, at the counter, trying to use some utensils to prop up a cookbook.

Dean sits at the table next to Cas while Sam explains. But soon they break to pack the car.

And Cas isn't coming.

Sam doesn't know why that feels so final. He's not looking forward to the drive, to Dean's silence or his offhand commentary on news they hear on the radio -- like he couldn't give a shit that he's opening the door of his home to Cas and leaving him there all day like a fucking housepet.

Dean catches him shaking his head as he passes the last of the bags over for him to toss in the trunk.

"What?"

He only shakes his head again. Drops himself in the passenger seat. Waits, watching the lower half of Dean's body in the rear-view, tossing the keys between his palms.

He steps forward.  
Hesitates another minute.  
Turns and goes down the steps to the front door-

Only Cas is already coming out. They nearly bump into each other.

He can't hear them. But there's nodding. And stilted gestures.

And he swears it looks like a breakup scene.

Dean turns to go up the stairs and turns right back.

He doesn't seem to say anything.

Dean shuts the front door and holds out his hand.

Cas blinks. But takes it. Follows him up to ground-level.

Dean opens the back door.

Cas slips in.

"I got your best girlfriend, bitch, you fuckin' happy?" Dean tosses himself behind the wheel and just jams the car on. "You can go back to gossiping about me."

Sam smirks over his shoulder at Cas. He smiles back.

"Yeah," he nails a fist into Dean's thigh and he flinches. "Thanks, jerk."

Dean looks in the rear-view. "You gonna let him abuse me like that?"

"Yes," Cas shrugs.

Dean scoffs. "Oh, thanks."

"Well, we're not lying anymore so I have to say it's more entertaining than most of the sitcoms I've tried."

"Sitcoms are gross, Cas."

«»

He wants an answer and he gets it.

He comes back from a beer run and it's pretty clear something happened while he was out.

Dean faces the wall, the tie from his fed suit wrapped around his fist as he flexes it.

The air is tense. Tense like it used to be right before Cas would fly off. But he can't, now.

And it looks like he wouldn't if he could. He stands in the middle of the room.

Sam is silent as he sets the beer down. Only to grab his bag, stuff the tablet in and pick it up again.

"No lies. I think can stick to no lies." He nods. "Secrets, though? Maybe. Maybe they have a place," he admits.

Cas resolves himself and begins to tell Sam, but Sam just raises his hand. "Just tell me if you can't help him handle it."

"He still won't tell me what it is."

There's a wall clock in this motel room and they can hear it over their collective breath for something like twenty seconds.

"He will now," Sam says. "Because you won't tell me unless you have to. Secrets with permission. We okay with trying that?"

Dean slowly raises his head.

Dean can't tell him. Dean doesn't even feel like he can tell Cas because then Cas will tell Sam.

It stings. And it's always gonna.

But Sam can't even tell them he washed the sigil off and hasn't replaced it in two days.

There is another way to live.  
There _are_ other ways to live.  
Maybe other ways to just _be_.

They'll make their best approximation.

One image before he shuts the door behind himself:  
Cas goes to his knees on the carpet before Dean. His hands lift like prayer but each comes to the side of Dean's face.

Dean starts to speak.


End file.
